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First helmetless death after new law illustrates complexities behind many motorcycle crashes

Ronald Weissend was a youth wrestling coach, volunteered at a soup kitchen, struggled with his demons, and was loved deeply. He became Michigan's first helmetless motorcycle crash death after the mandate was repealed - and a helmet may not have mattered.
(Photo by Lauren Justice | MLive.com)

Ronnie Weissend twists the throttle of his 2005 Harley Davidson Electra Glide as he enters I-69 in Genesee County’s Davison Township. He has been shopping for his daughter.

There are two semi-trucks in the area. Weissend accelerates his “sunglo-blue” bike into the far left lane to pass one of the trucks.

The semi changes into the same lane.

On April 30, the 43-year-old Flint man became the first helmetless motorcyclist to die in Michigan after the state’s mandatory helmet law was lifted 17 days earlier.

And in his death lie the complexities and contradictions that abound in Michigan’s many motorcycle crashes – especially those without helmets. Often, there's not just one contributor.

Weissend is among more than 50 helmetless motorcyclists who died this year, but his injuries were so severe his family believes a helmet would not have helped much. He was also at fault and under the influence of alcohol, both more common for cyclists without helmets, an MLive Media Group investigation found.

And he was a serious motorcyclist, but much more. He was loved by the high school wrestlers who wept for their coach, by the family he left behind, and by members of the sober biker club he joined, but left.

His blood-alcohol level was 0.21 percent at the time of the 8 p.m. crash on a Sunday night, more than twice the legal limit.

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“He struggled fiercely with his demons, and sometimes he overcame them,” says the Rev. Jay Gantz, who knew Weissend because he volunteered at the soup kitchen at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, where Gantz is pastor.

“He was a good boy. I loved him dearly and I miss him.”

Right to choose

Working at General Motors Corp. for more than 15 years, Ronnie Weissend’s vacations during summer shutdowns were planned for states that allowed him to ride helmetless.

As the family reminisces around the kitchen table in what used to be Ronnie’s home, his mangled Harley lays under a tarp in the garage.

Karle&egrave Weissend worked out with her father weekly while competing in softball and volleyball at Clio High School. Afterward, the pair would lunch at YaYa’s restaurant.

“Working out was our way of forming our relationship,” says Karle&egrave, 16.

Weissend (left) is seen here sharing a moment during the 15th annual Soberfest in Flint, for those recovering from alcohol and other substance abuse. Weissend was also a member of the Spirit Riders, a sober motorcycle group, but left when he started drinking again, said his friend, the Rev. Jay Gantz. MLive.com file photo

Her dad would detail Karle&egrave’s progress in his journal. After he died, she flipped through and found an article detailing pros and cons of a motorcycle helmet.

“He was pretty into it,” Karle&egrave says. “He did research on it.”

Motorcyclists without helmets were three times as likely to be killed in crashes, and more than 40 percent more likely to suffer incapacitating injuries, according to an MLive analysis of more than 3,000 crash records six months after the state lifted its helmet mandate.

But the records are also insufficient in determining if head injuries, or an injury elsewhere, were the culprit. Weissend's family believes he was in the latter category.

Passionate about wrestling

Ronnie was more like a brother than an uncle to Tom Weissend, the varsity wrestling coach at Carman Ainsworth High School.

“I loved coaching with him,” Tom Weissend says of their 12 years with students. “It was amazing.”

Tom’s son, Jake, went 58-0 in winning a state wrestling title this spring.

Weissend's mangled motorcycle lies beneath a tarp in his garage. He died April 30, 17 days after Michigan's helmet mandate was lifted.Lauren Justice | MLive.com

“One thing (Ronnie) always used to tell me was ‘hard work beats talent when talent don’t work hard,’” says Jake, now wrestling for Olivet College. “That day at the state meet, the one thing I remember most was walking in, seeing him, and we both burst into tears. He said, ‘You did good, but let’s go get a national championship.’ It was always about taking the next step.”

Twenty-seven days later, Ronnie Weissend was dead.

The funeral was attended by more than 50 wrestlers. Pallbearers wore orange Harley Davidson shirts.

At the service’s end, the entire Carman Ainsworth wrestling team went to Weissend’s casket. Each teen took a knee and said silent prayers.

“It was one of the most sacred things I’ve ever seen,” says Gantz, the St. Andrew’s pastor.

Weissend and Gantz became friends after Weissend joined Spirit Riders – a sober motorcycle group based in Genesee County that carries the message of recovery.

The two last rode together more than a year ago. “When Ronnie (started drinking again), he was no longer a member of the Spirit Riders,” Gantz says.

The night of the accident, April 29, Lucy Weissend asked Gantz to come to the hospital. The ground impact crushed Ronnie’s shoulder and snapped his neck, family members say.

“If Ronnie would’ve had a helmet on he probably would’ve been a vegetable,” his mother says. “He told me (two days) before the crash, ‘I would never, ever want to live like that, mom.’”

He died at Hurley Medical Center in Flint the next day, never regaining consciousness.
“Every single person in this church was absolutely crushed,” Gantz says. “Nobody in this life knows how many people they touch." He touched thousands and didn't even know it."

Dominic Adams is a police reporter for The Flint Journal. Contact him at dadams5@mlive.com or 810-241-8803. Follow him on Twitter or Facebook.